The Second Bridge
by ColorfulWords
Summary: Madison and Valerie, fraternal twins, move into the Perkins house fifty years after Leslie dies. There they discover what is left of Terabithia.
1. Chapter 1

**Madison's POV**

"I can't believe that they're making us do this," Valerie whined.

"Stop whining."

"I'm not whining!"

"Yes, you are," I said pointedly, annoyed. "Or maybe _moaning _would be a better word."

"Stop that!" Valerie said.

"What? Stop what?" I pushed my brown hair out of my eyes; shifted my gaze out the window. There was literally nothing to see: even the sky was a sickly shade of gray.

"You know. _That._" Val pinched my shoulder so that I would turn towards her. "The word thing. It's so- so- so-"

"Irritating? Bothersome? Galling?" I offered.

"See!?" She punched me playfully. "You're doing it again. Can't you just act normal, for once?"

I shrugged as I always did when we got to this conversation. "But I'm not. Normal, I mean. There really is no normal, you know. It's just like-"

Val held up her hand. "Don't. Just don't." She turned away from me, but I could still see disgust written all over my twin sister's face.

"Val-" I began, then I stopped. "I'm sorry."

"Sometimes, Maddie, it's hard for me to be your sister."

_Yeah. _I thought. _I know. _

**Valerie's POV**

"Well, here it is, girls! The old Perkins place!" Dad very nearly jumped out of the driver's seat. I turned away in disgust, only to gaze upon 'the old Perkins place'. My new home.

Don't ask me about it, but my parents are crazy. Outdoor freaks. Looove nature. Me? Not so much. And honestly, although it was more than a little embarrassing, it didn't really bother me. Until a few months ago, when out of the frickin' blue, dearest darling Mother and Father announce that we are all moving to the Middle of Nowhere, USA.

Also known as Lark Creek.

The house is ratty, torn up, and, according to my mom, 'antique'. Meaning the last inhabitants lived here fifty years ago.

Frickin' unbelievable.

"This is crazy," I muttered under my breath as I got out of the car, staring down at my favorite pair of flip-flops. My Red As Roses nail polish shined its way through the dirt. It was my only reminder that not _everything_ had changed.

Thank god for small miracles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Madison's POV**

The house is big, compared to our house. Our _old _house, I should say. There's one room that is painted gold, and it looks like the inside of a palace, or a castle. Fit for a queen, I think. My parents were never very extravagant people, which personally, I didn't mind much. Val, on the other hand…

Upstairs is beautiful too, although more than a little aged. The sunlight gently caresses the walls in my room, making footprints on the fading yellow paint. I take out my notebook and write that down. It's good. Maybe I'll use it in a story someday.

I'll tell you this, though I'm sure you've realized it already: I'm a writer. Words have so much appeal to me, always have. I love books and telling stories and I dream of one day becoming a really fantastic writer- Madison Laine Crist, author extraordinaire!

But I know all too well the reality of the situation.

**Valerie's POV**

_Ugh. _

Did I mention how crazy my parents are?

Totally crazy, that's the answer.

While Madison is off _exploring, _I'm applying lipstick in the dingy downstairs bathroom.

"Val!" My mother calls from the kitchen, moving box in her hands. "Don't you want to look around?"

I use my sweetest voice. "Sure I do." _In a hundred years or so. _

"Well, come on out of there!" She jerks the door open just as I finish with my makeup. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"

"'_Looking around,'" _I say. Then I move past her so I don't have to look into her eyes.

I go upstairs and peek into a room. Maddie's in there, scribbling something down as usual. From downstairs, I can hear my father's off key singing voice and my mother's laughter.

Why is it that everyone has stayed the same when everything else has changed?


	3. Chapter 3

**Madison's POV**

Val and I have bedrooms right next door to each other. Maybe this would be a good thing if she didn't blast pop music out of her speakers 24/7.

We started moving in our stuff right away, and by _we _I mean Mom, Dad and me. My desk, Val's vanity, Mom's cooking pot, Dad's books on birding; all of it had to come out of the truck and into the—our—house. I didn't want to be bitter, but my heart caught in my throat when I saw my box of old stuffed animals. Of course, Val had to come out right then.

"Seriously, Mads?" She scoffed, holding Mr. Fluffy's ear with distaste. "You still play with _these_?"

"What?" I shook my head. "No."

Valerie laughed. It was a gentle laugh, but there is a note of accusation in it. "Liar. I'll bet you have those stupid stuffed bears that Grammy gave us, don't you?"

I looked down, because indeed I do have my bear, the ones that our grandmother gave us on the day of our birth. They're a set; Val's and mine. Each bear holds half a heart. When they're put together, the broken halves connect and form the words, "Not Just Twins- Best Friends". So yeah, I still had mine, because as annoying as she is, I knew that Val still sleeps with her bear at night.

**Valerie's POV**

So everybody started moving everything out of the truck while I was up in my room, trying to figure out how to salvage the wreck. There was a bunch of furniture in the corner, covered in drapes. I lifted one of the white sheets off and was rewarded with a cloud of dust.

_Ick. _

Underneath the drape-thingy was a big picture of a girl about by age (at least I thought it was a girl) with a dog in her arms. I brushed off some more filth from the bottom to read the inscription.

_**Esl e**_ _**w th PT**_

It was very hard to read, and I am no reader. It looked like the first letter was an _L_, or maybe a _D_? The second word was probably "_with"_. And the third word was quite clear, as there was nothing scratched out. But "PT"? That didn't make any sense.

I gave up and ditched the picture in the hall, resolving that my room was clean enough and maybe I should go get some of my things from the truck. Imagine! Me, Valerie Crist, doing actual labor! Wouldn't my parents be proud. But nothing I did the rest of the day could shake the image of that photograph from my mind.

Who was that girl? "Esl e"? My parents had told me that the last family who lived here had a child. They had this whole discussion with Maddie about the history of this place, but I kind of tuned out after hearing that it hadn't been inhabited in _more than fifty years_.

Still, with what little I knew, I tried to make sense of it. Because if the former owners did indeed have a daughter, and if the photo was of her, why leave it behind?


End file.
